


Didn't See THAT Coming

by VictorKattz



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:42:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1805695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictorKattz/pseuds/VictorKattz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fate has a way of slapping you upside the helm and saying, "Go for it, you fragger!".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Didn't See THAT Coming

**Author's Note:**

> Hearing all this stuff about Orion Pax being an archivist - I blame you, TF: Prime, I never gave it a lot of thought BEFORE YOU! - made me wanna look up some of the old stuff I might have back in the old files. Things I know I might've forgotten about but never posted. 
> 
> So, guess what I found? In my UN Series, I have one labeled "Unscented". It inspired a story another story I wrote and placed inside an AU where Prowl and Jazz are actually twins. Prowl was prematurely Sparked, unfortunately, and Jazz was actually carried to full term. Same roughly, just Prowl was born first. I have a series of other fics I've been writing for this universe of mine. Apparently, most are incomplete >.

Jazz sat down against the wall, thinking back over how his morning had gone.

He'd just arrived back from a night patrol in the city...when he'd tripped over a recharging AND invisible sentry designated Mirage. Resulting trip had him landing helm first in a mud puddle, which had Red Alert catch him on motion sensors and, unable to tell visually who he was, thought he was a Decepticon in disguise. Alarms blared for breems. Mostly because Wheeljack had crossed a few wrong wires. 

The wash racks had been the Primus-born Matrix to finally reach. Then again... Primus must have one Pit of a sense of humor. The Dinobots had thought they could all fit in the racks at the same time. The pipes had been utterly destroyed in that attempt. 

The local car wash was having a deal on "The Works". Oh yeah! During the waxing and buffing, the Porsche had fallen into a light recharge...and onlined reeking of lemon. 

Now... He'd returned to THIS. Absently, he rubbed the bottom edge of his visor. At least the mud was gone, even if he did smell like a citrus fruit had exploded in his cab.  
The story he'd been able to get outta the other mechs was that Sideswipe had done SOMETHING - what had yet to be determined but Optimus had already dealt the punishment - to Grimlock. Whatever it had been had set Grimlock on a rampage after the Lamborghini, a chase that resulted in several dents and damages throughout the crew quarters. It all ended with the Tyrannosaurus blasting open Jazz's own quarters with a shot indeed for the red hellion. It hit the stereo equipment stored just behind the door...which sparked and set off the high-grade he'd had out from the other night...which exploded. Energon tended to do that.   
Red Alert set off the alarms. Inferno went overzealous and drowned nearly everything in fire retardant. The explosion landed Grimlock in the medbay. Sideswipe had been nowhere to be seen since Optimus had taken him by the literal scruff and stormed off.   
"Do I smell lemon?"  
Oh, yeah. He still smelled like a fruit.   
"How much of that stuff did the humans use on you?" Prowl took a step back when Jazz stood up. The saboteur's movement only increased the intensity of the scent. The tactician shut his olfactory sensors off, but his door-wings twitched from the atmospheric particles still bombarding them.   
"Coupla gallons, I think." Jazz rubbed his helm before giving a shrug. "Still that strong, huh?"  
"It's..." Prowl frowned. "...still unpleasant, yes."   
The wonderful thing about it was it saturated his insides, where a new employee had spilled the bottle of scented spray right in his floorboard. Ok, the employee had FLOODED his floorboard. "Dang. What am I gonna do?"  
"Sunstreaker might know of a detailer that he could recommend -"   
“That’s awesome ‘n all ‘o that, Prowl,” Jazz cut him off. “but I meant my quarters. I ain’t got nowhere to recharge now.”  
That was right. Prowl looked through the door of what used to be Jazz’s quarters. At least the walls had held the explosion in. Most of the room was still filled with fire retardant that hadn’t melted away yet. “Space is sorely limited as it is. This is a definite problem.” His logic center threw him a curve ball, and he wondered why he hadn’t thought of the solution before. He shifted his gaze to his twin. “My own quarters aren’t by any means spacious, although they are large enough to house another recharge berth.”  
Jazz chuckled, giving a lop-sided grin as he crossed his arms. “Not that me an’ my lemony self don’t wanna move in right away, but it’s not gonna be an imposition, is it?”  
“Depends.” Prowl arched an optic ridge.   
“Oh?”  
“Depends entirely on how quickly you have that smell removed.” He continued. “At the very least lessened or changed to something more tolerable.” Prowl turned and walked away, adding, “I personally prefer the leather scented freshener.”  
Jazz couldn’t contain himself and burst out laughing. 

\------------- ------------- -------------

Prowl dressed his quarters a lot more spartan than Jazz had expected them to be. When they were younger, the other had always lined shelves with datapads and other sorts of files to download and read on his down time. Knick knacks had always been the saboteur's thing, after all. He was the one who was always trying to collect things. Spilled right over into his work, too. From every one of his major missions, he had some sort of small trinket or object to remind him of that particular objective. Not all the memories were good ones...but that didn't mean he had to go forgetting what he had learned on that particular mission. And if there was anything Jazz made sure to do, it was to learn something on EVERY mission, no matter how insignificant some 'bots might view the lesson.   
Never knew what kind of knowledge might come in handy later.  
Now... Back to Prowl and his very, VERY bland living style. Two recharge berths, situated close to one another. Prowl had worked fast in getting Grapple to install another one. Aside from the berths, there was a computer terminal and a small desk. Small by Transformers standards, anyway. Jazz couldn't help the grin from settling on his faceplates. The more he looked around, the better and better the ideas that started to attach themselves to his processor. His brother wouldn't mind TOO much if he placed a speaker there...maybe a small stereo system there... Nah. Nothing was allowed to be small! Prowl wasn't using that space. Maybe Blaster could help him design something to fill it a little...  
At least Prowl had been right about Sunstreaker. Then again, who WOULDN'T have known their resident narcissist would've been able to prescribe the perfect cure for his "lemon-itis"? The Lamborghini certainly knew his detailers. And so, with the day finally behind him, his carpets feeling like they’d been shampooed from the Pit and back, and only a slight citrus fragrance, Jazz began to make himself at home in Prowl’s quarters.  
Jazz began rummaging through some lockers installed along the back wall. They were unlocked. Figures. They were all full of book files except for one. That one held rifle parts, an extra acid pellet rifle, and extra ammo. Beam weapons could be powered by the energy of the ‘Bot or ‘Con holding the rifle…but Prowl had acid pellets, meaning he needed actual ammo. Didn’t seem right and more than just a little unwieldy, especially for a ‘Bot as logic-oriented as Prowl to use. Jazz always figured that there was some reason for it he just couldn’t see.  
He took advantage of the extra berth and flopped down, hands clasped behind his hand. There was the good chance his own quarters wouldn’t see repairs for weeks, and that was if the Decepticons didn’t get too bored and decide to “amuse” themselves. Explosions, injuries, knockin’ heads around… That kind of thing.   
His internal chronometer read 2330 Earth Time. What time was Prowl going to get back to his quarters? He always had a morning shift starting at 0600 local… While their recharge cycles really only lasted about 4 hours, sometimes the defragging cycle took closer to twice that.

\-------------

Local time, it was 0234. Only the night patrols and perhaps Blaster, along with whoever his “unforutnate” victim for the night cycle, were online. The datawork for the day had finally been completed. Optimus had a meeting with the United Nations at 1200 tomorrow. The final preparations and documents had to be filled out and signed, along with Optimus and himself having to download the Earth languages they would need for the briefing. Translators, while they had their purpose, tended to lose something in said translation. The only way to truly understand a language was to learn to speak the language oneself. All to the same, Prowl believed that the humans were nearly useless in the Transformers war. Chip Chase was brilliant in his usage of Teletraan-1, but only because he understood the facts of Earth better than they did. Something that, unfortunately, the Autobots and Decepticons both had yet to grasp fully.  
Prowl inputted the code to his quarters, intending to initiate a much needed recharge cycle before he had to deal with the illogical information overload he was certain the humans were going to give him tomorrow. It was a very good thing that Optimus was going to be there.   
The faint particles of lemon in the air caused him to balk momentarily. That’s when he recalled what had happened to Jazz’s quarters earlier that particular solar cycle. He looked to the berth where his twin lay. The Porsche’s visor didn’t illuminate, even as Jazz sat up. He didn’t need to, but considering there were few other mechs that he would leave his sight offline for, this spoke leaps and bounds of the massive trust he still had for him.  
“What’s your shift tomorrow?” Jazz asked.  
Prowl moved to his own berth and sat down, leaning with his elbows resting on his knees. “The United Nations want Optimus and myself to greet with them tomorrow.”  
Jazz went quiet for a moment then laid back down. Prowl shifted so that he was lying on his side, door-wings off the side of the berth. They would likely start protesting this position soon enough. It was the only way the Datsun could lay and see his brother. It’d been ages since they’d recharged in the same room together. More than anything, Prowl wanted to recharge in the very same berth as the other black and white. Jazz still hadn’t displayed any of the old interest they’d once shared for each other. Prowl’s decision was stilled because of that. 

\------------- ------------- -------------

Four orns later…

~Two orns.~ Prowl mentally chuckled as he relocated a pile of music cassettes to Jazz’s recharge berth. In the exact middle of his desk - his normally perfectly ordered, pristine, and very much NON-chaotic personal workspace - was not where they belonged. ~Four orns and he’s already acquiring new things. Things to fill MY quarters with.~  
Prowl sat down and leaned back in his chair a little, taking in the room. The differences Jazz had already brought to this space wasn’t subtle. Two storage lockers had been added to his own, a JVC1000 boombox had found its way into one of the corners, along with several types of music. A large, Transformer-sized guitar - a gift from the Gibson company for saving foru of their warehouses from Frenzy just a few days ago - was propped up against the berth. Jazz was itching to learn how to play the thing. To the tactician, that meant the end of his audio receptors working efficiently until his twin learned said skill.   
He turned and activated the console. It was still too soon to approach Jazz about anything that might still be between them. Being in the same quarters made him think about it more and more. When he wasn’t thinking about work, he was thinking about Jazz. Speaking of which… Chip Chase was supposed to be online about this time. In another ten minutes, they’d scheduled a game of chess…  
The sound of footsteps outside the door were acknowledged, but not paid attention to, until they didn’t continue on. Prowl brought up the video feed from the security camera located across the hall. The last thing he needed right now was Sunstreaker and Sideswipe feeling it humorous to pull a prank or two.   
Jazz. And Blaster. Not exactly surprising. 

“I talked Eject and Rewind into covering the shift for me.” Blaster grinned.  
Jazz looked amused as he stood there, arms crossed. “rewind, I get. He can just read all night. But Eject? What’s he getting’ outta this?”  
“There’s a baseball game on tonight and he’ll get to hear it.”   
“Easy t’ please.” The saboteur shook his head, chuckling. The leaned on the wall. “Now, where ya takin’ him?”   
At this point, Blaster spread his arms out wide, his grin growing just a little larger. “I got it all figured out, Jazz-man. I talked some of the guys in charge of the car show to let us attend. Considering it’s all indoors?”  
“Tracks’ll be all for it.” Jazz finished for him. “Attend? Heh! He’ll wanna join it!”  
“Can’t argue with ya there.” Blaster laughed lightly. He looked at his long-time friend then. “So, what are you doin’ tonight?” He tapped him on the arm. “No more wild parties since Mr. Tight Aft became your roomie.”  
“Blaster,” Jazz rested a friendly hand on the other’s shoulder, and while he still wore a smile, laughter had gone from his voice. “Prowl offered, an’ it was my choice to accept. He ain’t as bad as most of ya guys seem to think he is.”  
Blaster gave Jazz what could only be described as a doubtful look. But then, a few seconds later, a knowing smirk came to his lip components. “Nearly all of us thought about Prowl in the berth, and as close as you may be to figuring it out, ya gotta admit he’s still a tight aft.”  
“He ain’t a notch, Blaster.” Jazz replied. “The Twins? Ratchet? They were notches.” He shook his head. “Prowl’s not like that. It’s a bit different with him.”

Prowl ended the video feed. As curious as he was, the saboteur had started typing in the code to their quarters. The two shared another word or two before Blaster headed off down the hall. Just as Jazz entered the room, Prowl pulled up the chess program. Still two minutes before Chip was supposed to be logged on.   
“Hey, Prowler.” Jazz said as he strode over to his berth, picking up his gigantic guitar.   
“Hello, Jazz.” He smiled at the Porsche.   
“Mind if I play for a bit?” He asked.  
“I’ll offline my audios. I have a game with Chip, and chess doesn’t require sound.” Prowl replied. Jazz beamed him a smile before moving his hand across the strings. Prowl did just what he said and was soon in blessed silence. He ran the conversation he’d overheard through his processor a few times before sending it to his battle computer to be analyzed.   
Did that mean there was still hope?

\------------- ------------- -------------

To anyone else, it looked like a normal sparring session. The twin Lamborghinis traded blows back and forth with practiced, fluent, and precise ease. So fluent, in fact, that nobody noticed the small touches that went beyond wrestling…that went beyond the normal boundaries that separated practice and personal. To intimate.   
Nobody…but Jazz.  
The original intention had been to get in a little off-duty training. His Metallikato had been slouching in form. Prowl normally helped him out with brushing up both of their techniques and such, but the tactician had been busy lately. Even then, it was always hard between the two of them to practice optimally. He and Prowl were almost night and day when it came to their cyberninja skills. Prowl had learned Diffusion, the art of defense, while he had learned Metallikato, the art of offense.  
So, offlining the security camera for the time being –nobody but he and Prowl knew that they practiced the old arts- he’d come here…to find something that he hadn’t expected to see. He’d suspected Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were Spark-merging. After all, being a twin himself, he could understand the urge to be with one’s other half. The way each seam and wire was caressed covertly, no doubt they thought they were still on camera. Slag, they probably were getting off on THINKING that they were on tape! Jazz kept back, remaining unnoticed, enjoying the show. His sensitive audios could easily pick out the differences in practice and pleasure moans and grunts. He’d been known to enjoy a little voyeurism once in a while.   
Sunstreaker overloaded first as Sideswipe pinned him down. He jerked as the red twin’s pelvic armor ground against his. It had been a top mount…sorta. Purposefully it had been too far down, allowing Sunstreaker to off balance him moments later and reverse their positions. In barely an astrosecond –Jazz knew Sunny had done something he couldn’t see- Sideswipe whimpered softly as he overloaded as well. A few astroseconds passed before Sunstreaker let himself up and held a hand out to the other. Only slightly shaking and both grinning, the twins left the training room.   
Any other time and Jazz would have been left imagining what kinds of things those two would’ve been doing if they’d been unrestricted. What kinds of sounds besides the small moans and whimpers would be coming out of their vocalizers. But right now the saboteur only wanted one thing. He only hoped it wasn’t completely out of his reach. 

\------------- ------------- ------------- 

The sound of his office door opening and the pede steps that followed were both familiar in sound and frequency. Prowl didn’t so much as bother to look up. “Can I help you, Jazz?”  
It didn’t bother him when he didn’t get an answer. As long as the Porsche behaved himself - He felt Jazz’s side of their bond open up wide, and he tensed as the wave of arousal jolted his systems. By the time his CPU recovered enough for him to form some kind of question, Jazz had pushed him back from the desk and straddled his lap! Any question he might’ve vocalized was promptly silenced when Jazz kissed him hungrily. Hands on his headlights quieted the rest. After all, his logic center metaphorically shrugged, he would always have time to ask those questions he had later.  
He wasn’t about to stop this. He’d wanted it too long to be like this between them again.   
For now, his battle computer issued the next few commands. They had never been with each other in these particular forms before. It’d been far different as younglings. The armor, the extra kibble… It was all new, and while Jazz was doing a slagging good job finding his sensitive spots, the touches were still unsure. Plus this chair really was too small for the two of them…  
Solutions came from every direction. Jazz gasped when Prowl opened the bond fully, allowing him to feel exactly what his touches were doing to the Datsun. Prowl shifted, lowering both of them to the floor, keeping himself on top. Even as he captured Jazz’s mouth with his own, he used the bond to guide his hands, finding sensitive seams along his twin’s sides. Jazz, however, wasn’t still at all. The bond made his touches more sure, more certain, so he knew exactly when he’d found a cluster of sensory nodes along Prowl’s lower back. It wasn’t anything compared to what happened when he got his hands on the smooth metal of the door-wing hinges.   
Prowl’s overload came crashing down hard. It was all Jazz could do to hold on as it slammed through him, triggering his own. It was so fast, so much…it was almost painful. There’s a fine line between pleasure and pain and this was definitely still within the realm of pleasure. He couldn’t have screamed even if he’d wanted to. His vocalizer gave only static and offline signals. There was a vague awareness of Prowl muffling his own deep groan somewhere by his shoulder.   
Prowl’s systems reset first. He moved a little to the side, giving the 3IC room to move. Jazz sat up, giving him a goofy, almost too knowing grin. “Ain’t had any in a while, have ya, Prowler?”   
“I’ve been busy.” He thought about standing… That thought left him promptly when he found the signal to his legs was responding sluggishly. “I think I’ll stay here for a little while, though.” He sat up and leaned against his desk.   
Prowl’s door-wings were quivering, and Jazz shifted so that he was closer to the tactician, reaching out to stroke one along it’s length. The bond was still open, and Jazz felt how sensitive all the energy had left the sensory panels. A trace of the pleasure Prowl was getting from it ghosted across his own hidden door-wings. The echoing sensory information was caught…and Prowl calculated what it meant in mere seconds. He stopped Jazz’s hand, catching it in his own and pulling the saboteur forward so that he was once again straddling his lap, and sent Jazz a wordless question through their bond. When he felt no uneasiness come his way, he reached around and went up under the hood of his twin’s alt-mode.   
His hand found smooth metal, the sensitive dermaplating of his hands locating familiar sensors. He could feel the nodes as they pinged Jazz’s sensory network. “You have door-wings?”  
“They’re kinda small compared t’your’s.” The fingerings were light, only feather caresses. “They started formin’ the last stellar cycle at the Academy.”  
“Still developing a vorn behind.”  
Responding to the tease, Jazz reached out and hooked two digits under the Datsun’s bumper, drawing him to him. He leaned forward so that his lips were nearly touching Prowl’s silvery-white ones. “We’re the same age, Prowler. Ya jus’ came out first.”  
Prowl entirely forget to ask any of the questions he’d had earlier. 

\------------- ------------- -------------

He hadn’t expected Prowl to overload him again, nearly sending him into automatic recharge mode right then and there! He didn’t remember much afterward…just somehow ending up on his berth. Prowl had gently shut the bond off again so as not to disturb, but he’d left part of it open, just enough for Jazz to still feel him. He couldn’t tell where he was, but there was an air of contentment about the tactician which hadn’t been there before.  
Drowsily, he sat up on the edge of his berth, dampening his scanners while onlining his visor. The familiar image of his and Prowl’s shared quarters came into view. It was completely dark. The blue glow of his visor allowed for some light. From where he sat, he eyed Prowl’s berth. It…looked a lot more comfortable than his right now, and Prowl would be here soon enough to help him keep it warm.   
\------------- 

Prowl had honestly given Jazz up for good when they’d separated ways after the Academy. They’d still shared their connection like before, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t what Prowl wanted. Jazz had gone from partner to partner, and only Prowl’s logical side kept him from finding ways to make these mech’s and femmes’ lives miserable. Some of them he had. After this afternoon, though… He felt light, as thought he weight of the world had gone from him. Maybe it had. Maybe it hadn’t. For all he knew, Jazz had already gone to someone else’s quarters by now.   
Though…he honestly doubted it. Jazz had remarked that he hadn’t had any in some time. That much had been true. He hadn’t had any since the last time he and Jazz had shared a berth when they’d been at the Academy. His twin had been judging it by the amount of energy that his system had produced during overload. That was actually normal. He’d have to learn to regulate the energy and try to dampen it somewhat. It wouldn’t do to have overloads being that powerful and taxing all the time.   
The megacycles were now late into the orn. Prowl typed in the pass code to his and Jazz’s shared quarters. The room was still dark, as he had left it. A quick scan told him Jazz wasn’t in his berth. He was…in his?  
Prowl walked quietly over to the recharging mech. This wasn’t like when they were younglings. Logically speaking, there just wasn’t enough room for both of them to comfortably fit in one berth. He considered for a moment going to Jazz’s berth to rest…  
A black hand came up and lightly caught his white one. He offered no resistance as he was pulled down to lie by his twin’s side. It took only minimal adjusting for him to find a more comfortable position for his door-wings. Jazz curled up into his side, offlining almost instantly. Prowl took a few moments to revel in the perfection of it all before the extra warmth and purr of Jazz’s recharging systems lulled him into recharge as well.


End file.
